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The Naturalist on the River Amazons
by Henry Walter Bates
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The Naturalist on the River Amazons

by Henry Walter Bates



AN APPRECIATION

BY CHARLES DARWIN Author of "The Origin of Species," etc.

From Natural History Review, vol. iii. 1863.

IN April, 1848, the author of the present volume left England in company with Mr. A. R. Wallace—"who has since acquired wide fame in connection with the Darwinian theory of Natural Selection"—on a joint expedition up the river Amazons, for the purpose of investigating the Natural History of the vast wood-region traversed by that mighty river and its numerous tributaries. Mr. Wallace returned to England after four years' stay, and was, we believe, unlucky enough to lose the greater part of his collections by the shipwreck of the vessel in which he had transmitted them to London. Mr. Bates prolonged his residence in the Amazon valley seven years after Mr. Wallace's departure, and did not revisit his native country again until 1859. Mr. Bates was also more fortunate than his companion in bringing his gathered treasures home to England in safety. So great, indeed, was the mass of specimens accumulated by Mr. Bates during his eleven years' researches, that upon the working out of his collection, which has been accomplished (or is now in course of being accomplished) by different scientific naturalists in this country, it has been ascertained that representatives of no less than 14,712 species are amongst them, of which about 8000 were previously unknown to science. It may be remarked that by far the greater portion of these species, namely, about 14,000, belong to the class of Insects—to the study of which Mr. Bates principally devoted his attention—being, as is well known, himself recognised as no mean authority as regards this class of organic beings. In his present volume, however, Mr. Bates does not confine himself to his entomological discoveries, nor to any other branch of Natural History, but supplies a general outline of his adventures during his journeyings up and down the mighty river, and a variety of information concerning every object of interest, whether physical or political, that he met with by the way.

Mr. Bates landed at Para in May, 1848. His first part is entirely taken up with an account of the Lower Amazons—that is, the river from its sources up to the city of Manaos or Barra do Rio Negro, where it is joined by the large northern confluent of that name— and with a narrative of his residence at Para and his various excursions in the neighbourhood of that city. The large collection made by Mr. Bates of the animal productions of Para enabled him to arrive at the following conclusions regarding the relations of the Fauna of the south side of the Amazonian delta with those of other regions.

"It is generally allowed that Guiana and Brazil, to the north and south of the Para district, form two distinct provinces, as regards their animal and vegetable inhabitants. By this it means that the two regions have a very large number of forms peculiar to themselves, and which are supposed not to have been derived from other quarters during modern geological times. Each may be considered as a centre of distribution in the latest process of dissemination of species over the surface of tropical America. Para lies midway between the two centres, each of which has a nucleus of elevated table-land, whilst the intermediate river- valley forms a wide extent of low-lying country. It is, therefore, interesting to ascertain from which the latter received its population, or whether it contains so large a number of endemic species as would warrant the conclusion that it is itself an independent province. To assist in deciding such questions as these, we must compare closely the species found in the district with those of the other contiguous regions, and endeavour to ascertain whether they are identical, or only slightly modified, or whether they are highly peculiar.

"Von Martius when he visited this part of Brazil forty years ago, coming from the south, was much struck with the dissimilarity of the animal and vegetable productions to those of other parts of Brazil. In fact the Fauna of Para, and the lower part of the Amazons has no close relationship with that of Brazil proper; but it has a very great affinity with that of the coast region of Guiana, from Cayenne to Demerara. If we may judge from the results afforded by the study of certain families of insects, no peculiar Brazilian forms are found in the Para district; whilst more than one-half of the total number are essentially Guiana species, being found nowhere else but in Guiana and Amazonia. Many of them, however, are modified from the Guiana type, and about one-seventh seem to be restricted to Para. These endemic species are not highly peculiar, and they may yet be found over a great part of Northern Brazil when the country is better explored. They do not warrant us in concluding that the district forms an independent province, although they show that its Fauna is not wholly derivative, and that the land is probably not entirely a new formation. From all these facts, I think we must conclude that the Para district belongs to the Guiana province and that, if it is newer land than Guiana, it must have received the great bulk of its animal population from that region. I am informed by Dr. Sclater that similar results are derivable from the comparison of the birds of these countries."

One of the most interesting excursions made by Mr. Bates from Para was the ascent of the river Tocantins—the mouth of which lies about 4-5 miles from the city of Para. This was twice attempted. On the second occasion—our author being in company with Mr. Wallace—the travellers penetrated as far as the rapids of Arroyos, about 130 miles from its mouth. This district is one of the chief collecting-grounds of the well-known Brazil-nut (Bertholletia excelsa), which is here very plentiful, grove after grove of these splendid trees being visible, towering above their fellows, with the "woody fruits, large and round as cannon-balls, dotted over the branches." The Hyacinthine Macaw (Ara hyacinthina) is another natural wonder, first met with here. This splendid bird, which is occasionally brought alive to the Zoological Gardens of Europe, "only occurs in the interior of Brazil, from 16' S.L. to the southern border of the Amazon valley." Its enormous beak—which must strike even the most unobservant with wonder—appears to be adapted to enable it to feed on the nuts of the Mucuja Palm (Acrocomia lasiospatha). "These nuts, which are so hard as to be difficult to break with a heavy hammer, are crushed to a pulp by the powerful beak of this Macaw."

Mr. Bates' later part is mainly devoted to his residence at Santarem, at the junction of the Rio Tapajos with the main stream, and to his account of Upper Amazon, or Solimoens—the Fauna of which is, as we shall presently see, in many respects very different from that of the lower part of the river. At Santarem—"the most important and most civilised settlement on the Amazon, between the Atlantic and Para "—Mr. Bates made his headquarters for three years and a half, during which time several excursions up the little-known Tapajos were effected. Some 70 miles up the stream, on its affluent, the Cupari, a new Fauna, for the most part very distinct from that of the lower part of the same stream, was entered upon. "At the same time a considerable proportion of the Cupari species were identical with those of Ega, on the Upper Amazon, a district eight times further removed than the village just mentioned." Mr. Bates was more successful here than on his excursion up the Tocantins, and obtained twenty new species of fishes, and many new and conspicuous insects, apparently peculiar to this part of the Amazonian valley.

In a later chapter Mr. Bates commences his account of the Solimoens, or Upper Amazons, on the banks of which he passed four years and a half. The country is a "magnificent wilderness, where civilised man has, as yet, scarcely obtained a footing-the cultivated ground, from the Rio Negro to the Andes, amounting only to a few score acres." During the whole of this time Mr. Bates' headquarters were at Ega, on the Teffe, a confluent of the great river from the south, whence excursions were made sometimes for 300 or 400 miles into the interior. In the intervals Mr. Bates followed his pursuit as a collecting naturalist in the same "peaceful, regular way," as he might have done in a European village. Our author draws a most striking picture of the quiet, secluded life he led in this far-distant spot. The difficulty of getting news and the want of intellectual society were the great drawbacks—"the latter increasing until it became almost insupportable." "I was obliged at last," Mr. Bates naively remarks, "to come to the conclusion that the contemplation of Nature, alone is not sufficient to fill the human heart and mind." Mr. Bates must indeed have been driven to great straits as regards his mental food, when, as he tell us, he took to reading the Athenaeum three times over, "the first time devouring the more interesting articles—the second, the whole of the remainder—and the third, reading all the advertisements from beginning to end."

Ega was, indeed, as Mr. Bates remarks, a fine field for a Natural History collector, the only previous scientific visitants to that region having been the German Naturalists, Spix and Martius, and the Count de Castelnau when he descended the Amazons from the Pacific. Mr. Bates' account of the monkeys of the genera Brachyuyus, Nyctipithecus and Midas met with in this region, and the whole of the very pregnant remarks which follow on the American forms of the Quadrumana, will be read with interest by every one, particularly by those who pay attention to the important subject of geographical distribution. We need hardly say that Mr. Bates, after the attention he has bestowed upon this question, is a zealous advocate of the hypothesis of the origin of species by derivation from a common stock. After giving an outline of the general distribution of Monkeys, he clearly argues that unless the "common origin at least of the species of a family be admitted, the problem of their distribution must remain an inexplicable mystery." Mr. Bates evidently thoroughly understands the nature of this interesting problem, and in another passage, in which the very singular distribution of the Butterflies of the genus Heliconius is enlarged upon, concludes with the following significant remarks upon this important subject:

"In the controversy which is being waged amongst Naturalists since the publication of the Darwinian theory of the origin of species, it has been rightly said that no proof at present existed of the production of a physiological species, that is, a form which will not interbreed with the one from which it was derived, although given ample opportunities of doing so, and does not exhibit signs of reverting to its parent form when placed under the same conditions with it. Morphological species, that is, forms which differ to an amount that would justify their being considered good species, have been produced in plenty through selection by man out of variations arising under domestication or cultivation. The facts just given are therefore of some scientific importance, for they tend to show that a physiological species can be and is produced in nature out of the varieties of a pre-existing closely allied one. This is not an isolated case, for I observed in the course of my travels a number of similar instances. But in very few has it happened that the species which clearly appears to be the parent, co-exists with one that has been evidently derived from it. Generally the supposed parent also seems to have been modified, and then the demonstration is not so clear, for some of the links in the chain of variation are wanting. The process of origination of a species in nature as it takes place successively, must be ever, perhaps, beyond man's power to trace, on account of the great lapse of time it requires. But we can obtain a fair view of it by tracing a variable and far-spreading species over the wide area of its present distribution; and a long observation of such will lead to the conclusion that new species must in all cases have arisen out of variable and widely-disseminated forms. It sometimes happens, as in the present instance, that we find in one locality a species under a certain form which is constant to all the individuals concerned; in another exhibiting numerous varieties; and in a third presenting itself as a constant form quite distinct from the one we set out with. If we meet with any two of these modifications living side by side, and maintaining their distinctive characters under such circumstances, the proof of the natural origination of a species is complete; it could not be much more so were we able to watch the process step by step. It might be objected that the difference between our two species is but slight, and that by classing them as varieties nothing further would be proved by them. But the differences between them are such as obtain between allied species generally. Large genera are composed in great part of such species, and it is interesting to show the great and beautiful diversity within a large genus as brought about by the working of laws within our comprehension."

But to return to the Zoological wonders of the Upper Amazon, birds, insects, and butterflies are all spoken of by Mr. Bates in his chapter on the natural features of the district, and it is evident that none of these classes of beings escaped the observation of his watchful intelligence. The account of the foraging ants of the genus Eciton is certainly marvellous, and would, even of itself, be sufficient to stamp the recorder of their habits as a man of no ordinary mark.

The last chapter of Mr. Bates' work contains the account of his excursions beyond Ega. Fonteboa, Tunantins—a small semi-Indian settlement, 240 miles up the stream—and San Paulo de Olivenca, some miles higher up, were the principal places visited, and new acquisitions were gathered at each of these localities. In the fourth month of Mr. Bates' residence at the last-named place, a severe attack of ague led to the abandonment of the plans he had formed of proceeding to the Peruvian towns of Pebas and Moyobamba, and "so completing the examination of the Natural History of the Amazonian plains up to the foot of the Andes." This attack, which seemed to be the culmination of a gradual deterioration of health, caused by eleven years' hard work under the tropics, induced him to return to Ega, and finally to Para, where he embarked, on the 2nd June 1859, for England. Naturally enough, Mr. Bates tells us he was at first a little dismayed at leaving the equator, "where the well-balanced forces of Nature maintain a land-surface and a climate typical of mind, and order and beauty," to sail towards the "crepuscular skies" of the cold north. But he consoles us by adding the remark that "three years' renewed experience of England" have convinced him "how incomparably superior is civilised life to the spiritual sterility of half-savage existence, even if it were passed in the Garden of Eden."



The following is the list of H. W. Bates' published works:

Contributions to an insect Fauna of the Amazon Valley, Paper read before the Linnean Society, June 21, 1861; The Naturalist on the Amazons, a Record of Adventure, Habits of Animals, Sketches of Brazilian and Indian Life . . . during Eleven Years of Travel, 1863; 3rd Edition, 1873, with a Memoir of the author by E. Clodd to reprint of unabridged edition, 1892.

Bates was for many years the editor of the Transactions of the Royal Geographical Society; the following works were edited and revised, or supplemented by him:—Mrs. Somerville's Physical Geography, 1870; A. Humbert, Japan and the Japanese, 1874; C. Koldewey, the German Arctic Expedition, 1874; P. E. Warburton, Journey across the Western Interior of Australia, 1875; Cassell's Illustrated Travels, 6 vols., 1869-1875; E. Whymper, Travels among the Great Andes of the Equator (Introduction to Appendix volume), 1892, etc.; Central America, the West Indies and South America; Stanford's Compendium of Geography and Travel, 2nd revised Ed., 1882; he also added a list of Coleoptera collected by J. S. Jameson on the Aruwini to the latter's Story of the Rear Column of the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition, etc., 1890; and an appendix to a catalogue of Phytophaga by H. Clark, 1866, etc.; and contributed a biographical notice of Keith Johnson to J. Thomson's Central African Lakes and Back, 1881.

He contributed largely to the Zoologist, Entomological Society's journal, Annals and Magazine of Natural History, and Entomologist.

LIFE—Memoir by E. Clodd, 1892; short notice in Clodd's Pioneers of Evolution, 1897.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1864

HAVING been urged to prepare a new edition of this work for a wider circle than that contemplated in the former one, I have thought it advisable to condense those portions which, treating of abstruse scientific questions, presuppose a larger amount of Natural History knowledge than an author has a right to expect of the general reader. The personal narrative has been left entire, together with those descriptive details likely to interest all classes, young and old, relating to the great river itself, and the wonderful country through which it flows,—the luxuriant primaeval forests that clothe almost every part of it, the climate, productions, and inhabitants.

Signs are not wanting that this fertile, but scantily peopled region will soon become, through recent efforts of the Peruvian and Brazilian governments to make it accessible and colonise it, of far higher importance to the nations of Northern Europe than it has been hitherto. The full significance of the title, the "largest river in the world," which we are all taught in our schoolboy days to apply to the Amazons, without having a distinct idea of its magnitude, will then become apparent to the English public. It will be new to most people, that this noble stream has recently been navigated by steamers to a distance of 2200 geographical miles from its mouth at Para, or double the distance which vessels are able to reach on the Yang-tze-Kiang, the largest river of the old world; the depth of water in the dry season being about seven fathoms up to this terminus of navigation. It is not, however, the length of the trunk stream, that has earned for the Amazons the appellation of the "Mediterranean of South America," given it by the Brazilians of Para; but the network of by-channels and lakes, which everywhere accompanies its course at a distance from the banks, and which adds many thousands of miles of easy inland navigation to the total presented by the main river and its tributaries. The Peruvians, especially, if I may judge from letters received within the past few weeks, seem to be stirring themselves to grasp the advantages which the possession of the upper course of the river places within their reach. Vessels of heavy tonnage have arrived in Para, from England, with materials for the formation of shipbuilding establishments, at a point situated two thousand miles from the mouth of the river. Peruvian steamers have navigated from the Andes to the Atlantic, and a quantity of cotton (now exported for the first time), the product of the rich and healthy country bordering the Upper Amazons, has been conveyed by this means, and shipped from Para to Europe. The probability of general curiosity in England being excited before long with regard to this hitherto neglected country, will be considered, of itself, a sufficient reason for placing an account of its natural features and present condition within reach of all readers.

LONDON, January, 1864.

CHAPTER I

PARA

Arrival—Aspect of the Country—The Para River—First Walk in the Suburbs of Para—Birds, Lizards, and Insects of the Suburbs— Leaf-carrying Ant—Sketch of the Climate, History, and present Condition of Para.

I embarked at Liverpool, with Mr. Wallace, in a small trading vessel, on the 26th of April, 1848; and, after a swift passage from the Irish Channel to the equator, arrived, on the 26th of May, off Salinas. This is the pilot-station for vessels bound to Para, the only port of entry to the vast region watered by the Amazons. It is a small village, formerly a missionary settlement of the Jesuits, situated a few miles to the eastward of the Para River. Here the ship anchored in the open sea at a distance of six miles from the shore, the shallowness of the water far out around the mouth of the great river not permitting, in safety, a nearer approach; and, the signal was hoisted for a pilot.

It was with deep interest that my companion and myself, both now about to see and examine the beauties of a tropical country for the first time, gazed on the land where I, at least, eventually spent eleven of the best years of my life. To the eastward the country was not remarkable in appearance, being slightly undulating, with bare sandhills and scattered trees; but to the westward, stretching towards the mouth of the river, we could see through the captain's glass a long line of forest, rising apparently out of the water; a densely-packed mass of tall trees, broken into groups, and finally into single trees, as it dwindled away in the distance. This was the frontier, in this direction, of the great primaeval forest characteristic of this region, which contains so many wonders in its recesses, and clothes the whole surface of the country for two thousand miles from this point to the foot of the Andes.

On the following day and night we sailed, with a light wind, partly aided by the tide, up the Para river. Towards evening we passed Vigia and Colares, two fishing villages, and saw many native canoes, which seemed like toys beneath the lofty walls of dark forest. The air was excessively close, the sky overcast, and sheet lightning played almost incessantly around the horizon— an appropriate greeting on the threshold of a country lying close under the equator! The evening was calm, this being the season when the winds are not strong, so we glided along in a noiseless manner, which contrasted pleasantly with the unceasing turmoil to which we had been lately accustomed on the Atlantic. The immensity of the river struck us greatly, for although sailing sometimes at a distance of eight or nine miles from the eastern bank, the opposite shore was at no time visible. Indeed, the Para river is thirty-six miles in breadth at its mouth; and at the city of Para, nearly seventy miles from the sea, it is twenty miles wide; but at that point, a series of islands commences which contracts the riverview in front of the port.

On the morning of the 28th of May, we arrived at our destination. The appearance of the city at sunrise was pleasing in the highest degree. It is built on a low tract of land, having only one small rocky elevation at its southern extremity; it, therefore, affords no amphitheatral view from the river; but the white buildings roofed with red tiles, the numerous towers and cupolas of churches and convents, the crowns of palm trees reared above the buildings, all sharply defined against the clear blue sky, give an appearance of lightness and cheerfulness which is most exhilarating. The perpetual forest hems the city in on all sides landwards; and towards the suburbs, picturesque country houses are seen scattered about, half buried in luxuriant foliage. The port was full of native canoes and other vessels, large and small; and the ringing of bells and firing of rockets, announcing the dawn of some Roman Catholic festival day, showed that the population was astir at that early hour.

We went ashore in due time, and were kindly received by Mr. Miller, the consignee of the vessel, who invited us to make his house our home until we could obtain a suitable residence. On landing, the hot moist mouldy air, which seemed to strike from the ground and walls, reminded me of the atmosphere of tropical stoves at Kew. In the course of the afternoon a heavy shower fell, and in the evening, the atmosphere having been cooled by the rain, we walked about a mile out of town to the residence of an American gentleman to whom our host wished to introduce us.

The impressions received during this first walk can never wholly fade from my mind. After traversing the few streets of tall, gloomy, convent-looking buildings near the port, inhabited chiefly by merchants and shopkeepers, along which idle soldiers, dressed in shabby uniforms carrying their muskets carelessly over their arms, priests, negresses with red water-jars on their heads, sad-looking Indian women carrying their naked children astride on their hips, and other samples of the motley life of the place, we passed down a long narrow street leading to the suburbs. Beyond this, our road lay across a grassy common into a picturesque lane leading to the virgin forest. The long street was inhabited by the poorer class of the population. The houses were of one story only, and had an irregular and mean appearance. The windows were without glass, having, instead, projecting lattice casements. The street was unpaved, and inches deep in loose sand. Groups of people were cooling themselves outside their doors— people of all shades in colour of skin, European, Negro and Indian, but chiefly an uncertain mixture of the three. Amongst them were several handsome women dressed in a slovenly manner, barefoot or shod in loose slippers, but wearing richly- decorated earrings, and around their necks strings of very large gold beads. They had dark expressive eyes, and remarkably rich heads of hair. It was a mere fancy, but I thought the mingled squalor, luxuriance and beauty of these women were pointedly in harmony with the rest of the scene— so striking, in the view, was the mixture of natural riches and human poverty. The houses were mostly in a dilapidated condition, and signs of indolence and neglect were visible everywhere. The wooden palings which surrounded the weed-grown gardens were strewn about and broken; hogs, goats, and ill-fed poultry wandered in and out through the gaps.

But amidst all, and compensating every defect, rose the overpowering beauty of the vegetation. The massive dark crowns of shady mangos were seen everywhere amongst the dwellings, amidst fragrant blossoming orange, lemon, and many other tropical fruit trees, some in flower, others in fruit, at varying stages of ripeness. Here and there, shooting above the more dome-like and sombre trees, were the smooth columnar stems of palms, bearing aloft their magnificent crowns of finely-cut fronds. Amongst the latter the slim assai-palm was especially noticeable, growing in groups of four or five; its smooth, gently-curving stem, twenty to thirty feet high, terminating in a head of feathery foliage, inexpressibly light and elegant in outline. On the boughs of the taller and more ordinary-looking trees sat tufts of curiously- leaved parasites. Slender, woody lianas hung in festoons from the branches, or were suspended in the form of cords and ribbons; whilst luxuriant creeping plants overran alike tree-trunks, roofs and walls, or toppled over palings in a copious profusion of foliage. The superb banana (Musa paradisiaca), of which I had always read as forming one of the charms of tropical vegetation, grew here with great luxuriance— its glossy velvety-green leaves, twelve feet in length, curving over the roofs of verandahs in the rear of every house. The shape of the leaves, the varying shades of green which they present when lightly moved by the wind, and especially the contrast they afford in colour and form to the more sombre hues and more rounded outline of the other trees, are quite sufficient to account for the charm of this glorious tree.

Strange forms of vegetation drew our attention at almost every step. Amongst them were the different kinds of Bromelia, or pineapple plants, with their long, rigid, sword-shaped leaves, in some species jagged or toothed along their edges. Then there was the bread-fruit tree—an importation, it is true; but remarkable from its large, glossy, dark green, strongly digitated foliage, and its interesting history. Many other trees and plants, curious in leaf, stem, or manner of growth, grew on the borders of the thickets along which lay our road; they were all attractive to newcomers, whose last country ramble of quite recent date was over the bleak moors of Derbyshire on a sleety morning in April.

As we continued our walk the brief twilight commenced, and the sounds of multifarious life came from the vegetation around. The whirring of cicadas; the shrill stridulation of a vast number and variety of field crickets and grasshoppers, each species sounding its peculiar note; the plaintive hooting of tree frogs—all blended together in one continuous ringing sound—the audible expression of the teeming profusion of Nature. As night came on, many species of frogs and toads in the marshy places joined in the chorus— their croaking and drumming, far louder than anything I had before heard in the same line, being added to the other noises, created an almost deafening din. This uproar of life, I afterwards found, never wholly ceased, night or day. In the course of time I became, like other residents, accustomed to it. It is, however, one of the peculiarities of a tropical—at least, a Brazilian—climate which is most likely to surprise a stranger. After my return to England, the deathlike stillness of summer days in the country appeared to me as strange as the ringing uproar did on my first arrival at Para. The object of our visit being accomplished, we returned to the city. The fire-flies were then out in great numbers, flitting about the sombre woods, and even the frequented streets. We turned into our hammocks, well pleased with what we had seen, and full of anticipation with regard to the wealth of natural objects we had come to explore.

During the first few days, we were employed in landing our baggage and arranging our extensive apparatus. We then accepted the invitation of Mr. Miller to make use of his rocinha, or country-house in the suburbs, until we finally decided on a residence. Upon this, we made our first essay in housekeeping. We bought cotton hammocks, the universal substitute for beds in this country, cooking utensils and crockery, and engaged a free negro, named Isidoro, as cook and servant-of-all-work.

Our first walks were in the immediate suburbs of Para. The city lies on a corner of land formed by the junction of the river Guama with the Para. As I have said before, the forest, which covers the whole country, extends close up to the city streets; indeed, the town is built on a tract of cleared land, and is kept free from the jungle only by the constant care of the Government. The surface, though everywhere low, is slightly undulating, so that areas of dry land alternate throughout with areas of swampy ground, the vegetation and animal tenants of the two being widely different. Our residence lay on the side of the city nearest the Guama, on the borders of one of the low and swampy areas which here extends over a portion of the suburbs. The tract of land is intersected by well-macadamised suburban roads, the chief of which, the Estrada das Mongubeiras (the Monguba road), about a mile long, is a magnificent avenue of silk-cotton trees (Bombax monguba and B. ceiba), huge trees whose trunks taper rapidly from the ground upwards, and whose flowers before opening look like red balls studding the branches. This fine road was constructed under the governorship of the Count dos Arcos, about the year 1812. At right angles to it run a number of narrow green lanes, and the whole district is drained by a system of small canals or trenches through which the tide ebbs and flows, showing the lowness of the site.

Before I left the country, other enterprising presidents had formed a number of avenues lined with cocoanut palms, almond and other trees, in continuation of the Monguba road, over the more elevated and drier ground to the north-east of the city. On the high ground the vegetation has an aspect quite different from that which it presents in the swampy parts. Indeed, with the exception of the palm trees, the suburbs here have an aspect like that of a village green at home. The soil is sandy, and the open commons are covered with a short grassy and shrubby vegetation. Beyond this, the land again descends to a marshy tract, where, at the bottom of the moist hollows, the public wells are situated. Here all the linen of the city is washed by hosts of noisy negresses, and here also the water-carts are filled—painted hogsheads on wheels, drawn by bullocks. In early morning, when the sun sometimes shines through a light mist, and everything is dripping with moisture, this part of the city is full of life; vociferous negroes and wrangling Gallegos, [Natives of Galicia, in Spain, who follow this occupation in Lisbon and Oporto, as well as at Para] the proprietors of the water-carts, are gathered about, jabbering continually, and taking their morning drams in dirty wineshops at the street corners.

Along these beautiful roads we found much to interest us during the first few days. Suburbs of towns, and open, sunny cultivated places in Brazil, are tenanted by species of animals and plants which are mostly different from those of the dense primaeval forests. I will, therefore, give an account of what we observed of the animal world during our explorations in the immediate neighbourhood of Para.

The number and beauty of the birds and insects did not at first equal our expectations. The majority of the birds we saw were small and obscurely coloured; they were indeed similar, in general appearance, to such as are met with in country places in England. Occasionally a flock of small parroquets, green, with a patch of yellow on the forehead, would come at early morning to the trees near the Estrada. They would feed quietly, sometimes chattering in subdued tones, but setting up a harsh scream, and flying off, on being disturbed. Hummingbirds we did not see at this time, although I afterwards found them by hundreds when certain trees were in flower. Vultures we only saw at a distance, sweeping round at a great height, over the public slaughter- houses. Several flycatchers, finches, ant-thrushes, a tribe of plainly-coloured birds, intermediate in structure between flycatchers and thrushes, some of which startle the new-comer by their extraordinary notes emitted from their places of concealment in the dense thickets; and also tanagers, and other small birds, inhabited the neighbourhood. None of these had a pleasing song, except a little brown wren (Troglodytes furvus), whose voice and melody resemble those of our English robin. It is often seen hopping and climbing about the walls and roofs of houses and on trees in their vicinity. Its song is more frequently heard in the rainy season, when the Monguba trees shed their leaves. At those times the Estrada das Mongubeiras has an appearance quite unusual in a tropical country. The tree is one of the few in the Amazon region which sheds all its foliage before any of the new leaf-buds expand. The naked branches, the sodden ground matted with dead leaves, the grey mist veiling the surrounding vegetation, and the cool atmosphere soon after sunrise, all combine to remind one of autumnal mornings in England. Whilst loitering about at such times in a half-oblivious mood, thinking of home, the song of this bird would create for the moment a perfect illusion. Numbers of tanagers frequented the fruit and other trees in our garden. The two principal kinds which attracted our attention were the Rhamphoccelus Jacapa and the Tanagra Episcopus. The females of both are dull in colour, but the male of Jacapa has a beautiful velvety purple and black plumage, the beak being partly white, whilst the same sex in Episcopus is of a pale blue colour, with white spots on the wings. In their habits they both resemble the common house- sparrow of Europe, which does not exist in South America, its place being in some measure filled by these familiar tanagers. They are just as lively, restless, bold, and wary; their notes are very similar, chirping and inharmonious, and they seem to be almost as fond of the neighbourhood of man. They do not, however, build their nests on houses.

Another interesting and common bird was the Japim, a species of Cassicus ( C. icteronotus). It belongs to the same family of birds as our starling, magpie, and rook—it has a rich yellow and black plumage, remarkably compact and velvety in texture. The shape of its head and its physiognomy are very similar to those of the magpie; it has light grey eyes, which give it the same knowing expression. It is social in its habits, and builds its nest, like the English rook, on trees in the neighbourhood of habitations. But the nests are quite differently constructed, being shaped like purses, two feet in length, and suspended from the slender branches all around the tree, some of them very near the ground. The entrance is on the side near the bottom of the nest. The bird is a great favourite with the Brazilians of Para— it is a noisy, stirring, babbling creature, passing constantly to and fro, chattering to its comrades, and is very ready at imitating other birds, especially the domestic poultry of the vicinity. There was at one time a weekly newspaper published at Para, called "The Japim"; the name being chosen, I suppose, on account of the babbling propensities of the bird. Its eggs are nearly round, and of a bluish-white colour, speckled with brown.

Of other vertebrate animals we saw very little, except of the lizards. These are sure to attract the attention of the newcomer from Northern Europe, by reason of their strange appearance, great numbers, and variety. The species which are seen crawling over the walls of buildings in the city are different from those found in the forest or in the interior of houses. They are unpleasant-looking animals, with colours assimilated to those of the dilapidated stone and mud walls on which they are seen. The house lizards belong to a peculiar family, the Geckos, and are found even in the best-kept chambers, most frequently on the walls and ceilings, to which they cling motionless by day, being active only at night. They are of speckled grey or ashy colours. The structure of their feet is beautifully adapted for clinging to and running over smooth surfaces; the underside of their toes being expanded into cushions, beneath which folds of skin form a series of flexible plates. By means of this apparatus they can walk or run across a smooth ceiling with their backs downwards; the plated soles, by quick muscular action, exhausting and admitting air alternately. The Geckos are very repulsive in appearance. The Brazilians give them the name of Osgas, and firmly believe them to be poisonous; they are, however, harmless creatures. Those found in houses are small; but I have seen others of great size, in crevices of tree trunks in the forest. Sometimes Geckos are found with forked tails; this results from the budding of a rudimentary tail at the side, from an injury done to the member. A slight rap will cause their tails to snap off; the loss being afterwards partially repaired by a new growth. The tails of lizards seem to be almost useless appendages to these animals. I used often to amuse myself in the suburbs, whilst resting in the verandah of our house during the heat of mid-day, by watching the variegated green, brown, and yellow ground-lizards. They would come nimbly forward, and commence grubbing with their forefeet and snouts around the roots of herbage, searching for insect larvae. On the slightest alarm, they would scamper off, their tails cocked up in the air as they waddled awkwardly away, evidently an incumbrance to them in their flight.

Next to the birds and lizards, the insects of the suburbs of Para deserve a few remarks. The species observed in the weedy and open places, as already remarked, were generally different from those which dwell in the shades of the forest. In the gardens, numbers of fine showy butterflies were seen. There were two swallow- tailed species, similar in colours to the English Papilio Machaon; a white Pieris (P. Monuste), and two or three species of brimstone and orange coloured butterflies, which do not belong, however, to the same genus as our English species. In weedy places a beautiful butterfly, with eye-like spots on its wings was common, the Junonia Lavinia, the only Amazonian species which is at all nearly related to our Vanessas, the Admiral and Peacock Butterflies. One day, we made our first acquaintance with two of the most beautiful productions of nature in this department— namely, the Helicopis Cupido and Endymion. A little beyond our house, one of the narrow green lanes which I have already mentioned diverged from the Monguba avenue, and led, between enclosures overrun with a profusion of creeping plants and glorious flowers, down to a moist hollow, where there was a public well in a picturesque nook, buried in a grove of Mucaja palm trees. On the tree trunks, walls, and palings, grew a great quantity of climbing Pothos plants, with large glossy heart- shaped leaves. These plants were the resort of these two exquisite species, and we captured a great number of specimens. They are of extremely delicate texture. The wings are cream- coloured, the hind pair have several tail-like appendages, and are spangled beneath as if with silver. Their flight is very slow and feeble; they seek the protected under-surface of the leaves, and in repose close their wings over the back, so as to expose the brilliantly spotted under-surface.

I will pass over the many other orders and families of insects, and proceed at once to the ants. These were in great numbers everywhere, but I will mention here only two kinds. We were amazed at seeing ants an inch and a quarter in length, and stout in proportion, marching in single file through the thickets. These belonged to the species called Dinoponera grandis. Its colonies consist of a small number of individuals, and are established about the roots of slender trees. It is a stinging species, but the sting is not so severe as in many of the smaller kinds. There was nothing peculiar or attractive in the habits of this giant among the ants. Another far more interesting species was the Sauba (Oecodoma cephalotes). This ant is seen everywhere about the suburbs, marching to and fro in broad columns. From its habit of despoiling the most valuable cultivated trees of their foliage, it is a great scourge to the Brazilians. In some districts it is so abundant that agriculture is almost impossible, and everywhere complaints are heard of the terrible pest.

The workers of this species are of three orders, and vary in size from two to seven lines; some idea of them may be obtained from the accompanying woodcut. The true working-class of a colony is formed by the small-sized order of workers, the worker-minors as they are called (Fig. I). The two other kinds, whose functions, as we shall see, are not yet properly understood, have enormously swollen and massive heads; in one (Fig. 2), the head is highly polished; in the other (Fig. 3), it is opaque and hairy. The worker-minors vary greatly in size, some being double the bulk of others. The entire body is of very solid consistency, and of a pale reddish-brown colour. The thorax or middle segment is armed with three pairs of sharp spines; the head, also, has a pair of similar spines proceeding from the cheeks behind.

In our first walks we were puzzled to account for large mounds of earth, of a different colour from the surrounding soil, which were thrown up in the plantations and woods. Some of them were very extensive, being forty yards in circumference, but not more than two feet in height. We soon ascertained that these were the work of the Saubas, being the outworks, or domes, which overlie and protect the entrances to their vast subterranean galleries. On close examination, I found the earth of which they are composed to consist of very minute granules, agglomerated without cement, and forming many rows of little ridges and turrets. The difference in colour from the superficial soil of the vicinity is owing to their being formed of the undersoil, brought up from a considerable depth. It is very rarely that the ants are seen at work on these mounds; the entrances seem to be generally closed; only now and then, when some particular work is going on, are the galleries opened. The entrances are small and numerous; in the larger hillocks it would require a great amount of excavation to get at the main galleries; but, I succeeded in removing portions of the dome in smaller hillocks, and then I found that the minor entrances converged, at the depth of about two feet, into one broad, elaborately-worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches in diameter.

This habit of the Sauba ant, of clipping and carrying away immense quantities of leaves, has long been recorded in books on natural history. When employed on this work, their processions look like a multitude of animated leaves on the march. In some places I found an accumulation of such leaves, all circular pieces, about the size of a sixpence, lying on the pathway, unattended by ants, and at some distance from any colony. Such heaps are always found to be removed when the place is revisited the next day. In course of time I had plenty of opportunities of seeing them at work. They mount the tree in multitudes, the individuals being all worker-minors. Each one places itself on the surface of a leaf, and cuts, with its sharp scissor-like jaws, a nearly semicircular incision on the upper side; it then takes the edge between its jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the piece. Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little heap accumulates, until carried off by another relay of workers; but, generally, each marches off with the piece it has operated upon, and as all take the same road to their colony, the path they follow becomes in a short time smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a cartwheel through the herbage.

It is a most interesting sight to see the vast host of busy diminutive labourers occupied on this work. Unfortunately, they choose cultivated trees for their purpose. This ant is quite peculiar to Tropical America, as is the entire genus to which it belongs; it sometimes despoils the young trees of species growing wild in its native forests, but seems to prefer, when within reach, plants imported from other countries, such as the coffee and orange trees. It has not hitherto been shown satisfactorily to what use it applies the leaves. I discovered this only after much time spent in investigation. The leaves are used to thatch the domes which cover the entrances to their subterranean dwellings, thereby protecting from the deluging rains the young broods in the nests beneath. The larger mounds, already described, are so extensive that few persons would attempt to remove them for the purpose of examining their interior; but smaller hillocks, covering other entrances to the same system of tunnels and chambers, may be found in sheltered places, and these are always thatched with leaves, mingled with granules of earth. The heavily-laden workers, each carrying its segment of leaf vertically, the lower edge secured in its mandibles, troop up and cast their burdens on the hillock; another relay of labourers place the leaves in position, covering them with a layer of earthy granules, which are brought one by one from the soil beneath.

The underground abodes of this wonderful ant are known to be very extensive. The Rev. Hamlet Clark has related that the Sauba of Rio de Janeiro, a species closely allied to ours, has excavated a tunnel under the bed of the river Parahyba, at a place where it is broad as the Thames at London Bridge. At the Magoary Rice Mills, near Para, these ants once pierced the embankment of a large reservoir; the great body of water which it contained escaped before the damage could be repaired. In the Botanic Gardens, at Para, an enterprising French gardener tried all he could think of to extirpate the Sauba. With this object, he made fires over some of the main entrances to their colonies, and blew the fumes of sulphur down the galleries by means of bellows. I saw the smoke issue from a great number of outlets, one of which was seventy yards distant from the place where the bellows were used. This shows how extensively the underground galleries are ramified.

Besides injuring and destroying young trees by despoiling them of their foliage, the Sauba ant is troublesome to the inhabitants from its habit of plundering the stores of provisions in houses at night, for it is even more active by night than in the day- time. At first I was inclined to discredit the stories of their entering habitations and carrying off grain by grain the farinha or mandioca meal, the bread of the poorer classes of Brazil. At length, whilst residing at an Indian village on the Tapajos, I had ample proof of the fact. One night my servant woke me three or four hours before sunrise, by calling out that the rats were robbing the farinha baskets—the article at that time being scarce and dear. I got up, listened, and found the noise was very unlike that made by rats. So, I took the light and went into the storeroom, which was close to my sleeping-place. I there found a broad column of Sauba ants, consisting of thousands of individuals, as busy as possible, passing to and fro between the door and my precious baskets. Most of those passing outwards were laden each with a grain of farinha, which was, in some cases, larger and many times heavier than the bodies of the carriers. Farinha consists of grains of similar size and appearance to the tapioca of our shops; both are products of the same root, tapioca being the pure starch, and farinha the starch mixed with woody fibre, the latter ingredient giving it a yellowish colour. It was amusing to see some of the dwarfs, the smallest members of their family, staggering along, completely hidden under their load. The baskets, which were on a high table, were entirely covered with ants, many hundreds of whom were employed in snipping the dry leaves which served as lining. This produced the rustling sound which had at first disturbed us. My servant told me that they would carry off the whole contents of the two baskets (about two bushels) in the course of the night, if they were not driven off; so we tried to exterminate them by killing them with our wooden clogs. It was impossible, however, to prevent fresh hosts coming in as fast as we killed their companions. They returned the next night; and I was then obliged to lay trains of gunpowder along their line, and blow them up. This, repeated many times, at last seemed to intimidate them, for we were free from their visits during the remainder of my residence at the place. What they did with the hard dry grains of mandioca I was never able to ascertain, and cannot even conjecture. The meal contains no gluten, and therefore would be useless as cement. It contains only a smallrelative portion of starch, and, when mixed with water, it separates and falls away like so much earthy matter. It may serve as food for the subterranean workers. But the young or larvae of ants are usually fed by juices secreted by the worker nurses.

Ants, it is scarcely necessary to observe, consist, in each species, of three sets of individuals, Or, as some express it, of three sexes—namely, males, females, and workers; the last- mentioned being undeveloped females. The perfect sexes are winged on their first attaining the adult state; they alone propagate their kind, flying away, previous to the act of reproduction, from the nest in which they have been reared. This winged state of the perfect males and females, and the habit of flying abroad before pairing, are very important points in the economy of ants; for they are thus enabled to intercross with members of distant colonies which swarm at the same time, and thereby increase the vigour of the race, a proceeding essential to the prosperity of any species. In many ants, especially those of tropical climates, the workers, again, are of two classes, whose structure and functions are widely different. In some species they are wonderfully unlike each other, and constitute two well-defined forms of workers. In others, there is a gradation of individuals between the two extremes. The curious differences in structure and habits between these two classes form an interesting, but very difficult, study. It is one of the great peculiarities of the Sauba ant to possess three classes of workers. My investigations regarding them were far from complete; I will relate, however, what I have observed on the subject.

When engaged in leaf-cutting, plundering farinha, and other operations, two classes of workers are always seen (Figs. 1 and 2, page 10). They are not, it is true, very sharply defined in structure, for individuals of intermediate grades occur. All the work, however, is done by the individuals which have small heads (Fig. 1), while those which have enormously large heads, the worker-majors (Fig. 2), are observed to be simply walking about. I could never satisfy myself as to the function of these worker- majors. They are not the soldiers or defenders of the working portion of the community, like the armed class in the termites, or white ants, for they never fight. The species has no sting, and does not display active resistance when interfered with. I once imagined they exercised a sort of superintendence over the others; but this function is entirely unnecessary in a community where all work with a precision and regularity resembling the subordinate parts of a piece of machinery. I came to the conclusion, at last, that they have no very precisely defined function. They cannot, however, be entirely useless to the community, for the sustenance of an idle class of such bulky individuals would be too heavy a charge for the species to sustain. I think they serve, in some sort, as passive instruments of protection to the real workers. Their enormously large, hard, and indestructible heads may be of use in protecting them against the attacks of insectivorous animals. They would be, on this view, a kind of "pieces de resistance," serving as a foil against onslaughts made on the main body of workers.

The third order of workers is the most curious of all. If the top of a small, fresh hillock, one in which the thatching process is going on, is taken off, a broad cylindrical shaft is disclosed at a depth of about two feet from the surface. If this is probed with a stick, which may be done to the extent of three or four feet without touching bottom, a small number of colossal fellows (Fig. 3) will slowly begin to make their way up the smooth sides of the mine. Their heads are of the same size as those of the class Fig. 2, but the front is clothed with hairs, instead of being polished, and they have in the middle of the forehead a twin, ocellus, or simple eye, of quite different structure from the ordinary compound eyes, on the sides of the head. This frontal eye is totally wanting in the other workers, and is not known in any other kind of ant. The apparition of these strange creatures from the cavernous depths of the mine reminded me, when I first observed them, of the Cyclopes of Homeric fable. They were not very pugnacious, as I feared they would be, and I had no difficulty in securing a few with my fingers. I never saw them under any other circumstances than those here related, and what their special functions may be I cannot divine.

The whole arrangement of a Formicarium, or ant-colony, and all the varied activity of ant-life, are directed to one main purpose—the perpetuation and dissemination of the species. Most of the labour which we see performed by the workers has for its end the sustenance and welfare of the young brood, which are helpless grubs. The true females are incapable of attending to the wants of their offspring; and it is on the poor sterile workers, who are denied all the other pleasures of maternity, that the entire care devolves. The workers are also the chief agents in carrying out the different migrations of the colonies, which are of vast importance to the dispersal and consequent prosperity of the species. The successful debut of the winged males and females depends likewise on the workers. It is amusing to see the activity and excitement which reigns in an ant's nest when the exodus of the winged individuals is taking place. The workers clear the roads of exit, and show the most lively interest in their departure, although it is highly improbable that any of them will return to the same colony. The swarming or exodus of the winged males and females of the Sauba ant takes place in January and February, that is, at the commencement of the rainy season. They come out in the evening in vast numbers, causing quite a commotion in the streets and lanes. They are of very large size, the female measuring no less than two-and-a- quarter inches in expanse of wing; the male is not much more than half this size. They are so eagerly preyed upon by insectivorous animals that on the morning after their flight not an individual is to be seen, a few impregnated females alone escaping the slaughter to found new colonies.

At the time of our arrival, Para had not quite recovered from the effects of a series of revolutions, brought about by the hatred which existed between the native Brazilians and the Portuguese; the former, in the end, calling to their aid the Indian and mixed coloured population. The number of inhabitants of the city had decreased, in consequence of these disorders, from 24,500 in 1819, to 15,000 in 1848. Although the public peace had not been broken for twelve years before the date of our visit, confidence was not yet completely restored, and the Portuguese merchants and tradesmen would not trust themselves to live at their beautiful country houses or rocinhas, which lie embosomed in the luxuriant shady gardens around the city. No progress had been made in clearing the second-growth forest which had grown over the once cultivated grounds, and now reached the end of all the suburban streets. The place had the aspect of one which had seen better days; the public buildings, including the palaces of the President and Bishop, the cathedral, the principal churches and convents, all seemed constructed on a scale of grandeur far beyond the present requirements of the city. Streets full of extensive private residences, built in the Italian style of architecture, were in a neglected condition, weeds and flourishing young trees growing from large cracks in the masonry. The large public squares were overgrown with weeds and impassable, on account of the swampy places which occupied portions of their areas. Commerce, however, was now beginning to revive, and before I left the country I saw great improvements, as I shall have to relate towards the conclusion of this narrative.

The province of which Para is the capital, was at the time I allude to, the most extensive in the Brazilian empire, being about 1560 miles in length from east to west, and about 600 in breadth. Since that date—namely in 1853—it has been divided into two by the separation of the Upper Amazons as a distinct province. It formerly constituted a section, capitania, or governorship of the Portuguese colony. Originally it was well peopled by Indians, varying much in social condition according to their tribe, but all exhibiting the same general physical characters, which are those of the American red man, somewhat modified by long residence in an equatorial forest country.

Most of the tribes are now extinct or forgotten, at least those which originally peopled the banks of the main river, their descendants having amalgamated with the white and negro immigrants. [The mixed breeds which now form, probably, the greater part of the population, each have a distinguishing name. Mameluco denotes the offspring of White with Indian; Mulatto, that of White with Negro; Cafuzo, the mixture of the Indian and Negro; Curiboco, the cross between the Cafuzo and the Indian; Xibaro, that between the Cafuzo and Negro. These are seldom, however, well-demarcated, and all shades of colour exist; the names are generally applied only approximatively. The term Creole is confined to negroes born in the country. The civilised Indian is called Tapuyo or Caboclo.] Many still exist, however, in their original state on the Upper Amazons and most of the branch rivers. On this account, Indians in this province are far more numerous than elsewhere in Brazil, and the Indian element may be said to prevail in the mongrel population— the negro proportion being much smaller than in South Brazil.

The city is built on the best available site for a port of entry to the Amazons region, and must in time become a vast emporium; the northern shore of the main river, where alone a rival capital could be founded, is much more difficult of access to vessels, and is besides extremely unhealthy. Although lying so near the equator (1 28' S. lat.) the climate is not excessively hot. The temperature during three years only once reached 95 degrees Fahrenheit. The greatest heat of the day, about 2 p.m., ranges generally between 89 and 94; but on the other hand, the air is never cooler than 73, so that a uniformly high temperature exists, and the mean of the year is 81. North American residents say that the heat is not so oppressive as it is in summer in New York and Philadelphia. The humidity is, of course, excessive, but the rains are not so heavy and continuous in the wet season as in many other tropical climates. The country had for a long time a reputation for extreme salubrity. Since the small-pox in 1819, which attacked chiefly the Indians, no serious epidemic had visited the province. We were agreeably surprised to find no danger from exposure to the night air or residence in the low swampy lands. A few English residents, who had been established here for twenty or thirty years, looked almost as fresh in colour as if they had never left their native country. The native women, too, seemed to preserve their good looks and plump condition until late in life. I nowhere observed that early decay of appearance in Brazilian ladies, which is said to be so general in the women of North America.

Up to 1848 the salubrity of Para was quite remarkable for a city lying in the delta of a great river, in the middle of the tropics and half surrounded by swamps. It did not much longer enjoy its immunity from epidemics. In 1850 the yellow fever visited the province for the first time, and carried off in a few weeks more than four percent of the population. One disease after another succeeded, until in 1855 cholera swept through the country and caused fearful havoc. Since then, the healthfulness of the climate has been gradually restored, and it is now fast recovering its former good reputation. Para is free from serious endemic disorders, and was once a resort of invalids from New York and Massachusetts. The equable temperature, the perpetual verdure, the coolness of the dry season when the sun's heat is tempered by the strong sea-breezes and the moderation of the periodical rains, make the climate one of the most enjoyable on the face of the earth.

The province is governed, like all others in the empire, by a President, as chief civil authority. At the time of our arrival he also held, exceptionally, the chief military command. This functionary, together with the head of the police administration and the judges, is nominated by the central Government at Rio Janeiro. The municipal and internal affairs are managed by a provincial assembly elected by the people. Every villa or borough throughout the province also possesses its municipal council, and in thinly-populated districts the inhabitants choose every four years a justice of the peace, who adjudicates in small disputes between neighbours. A system of popular education exists, and every village has its school of first letters, the master being paid by the government, the salary amounting to about 70, or the same sum as the priests receive. Besides common schools, a well- endowed classical seminary is maintained at Para, to which the sons of most of the planters and traders in the interior are sent to complete their education. The province returns its quota of members every four years to the lower and upper houses of the imperial parliament. Every householder has a vote. Trial by jury has been established, the jurymen being selected from householders, no matter what their race or colour; and I have seen the white merchant, the negro husbandman, the mameluco, the mulatto, and the Indian, all sitting side by side on the same bench. Altogether the constitution of government in Brazil seems to combine happily the principles of local self-government and centralisation, and only requires a proper degree of virtue and intelligence in the people to lead the nation to great prosperity.

The province of Para, or, as we may now say, the two provinces of Para and the Amazons, contain an area of 800,000 square miles, the population of which is only about 230,000, or in the ratio of one person to four square miles! The country is covered with forests, and the soil is fertile in the extreme, even for a tropical country. It is intersected throughout by broad and deep navigable rivers. It is the pride of the Paraenses to call the Amazons the Mediterranean of South America. The colossal stream perhaps deserves the name, for not only have the main river and its principal tributaries an immense expanse of water bathing the shores of extensive and varied regions, but there is also throughout a system of back channels, connected with the main rivers by narrow outlets and linking together a series of lakes, some of which are fifteen, twenty, and thirty miles in length. The whole Amazons valley is thus covered by a network of navigable waters, forming a vast inland freshwater sea with endless ramifications— rather than a river.

The city of Para was founded in 1615, and was a place of considerable importance towards the latter half of the eighteenth century, under the government of the brother of Pombal, the famous Portuguese statesman. The province was the last in Brazil to declare its independence of the mother-country and acknowledge the authority of the first emperor, Don Pedro. This was owing to the great numbers and influence of the Portuguese, and the rage of the native party was so great in consequence, that immediately after independence was proclaimed in 1823, a counter revolution broke out, during which many hundred lives were lost and much hatred engendered. The antagonism continued for many years, partial insurrections taking place when the populace thought that the immigrants from Portugal were favoured by the governors sent from the capital of the empire. At length, in 1835, a serious revolt took place which in a short time involved the entire province. It began by the assassination of the President and the leading members of the government; the struggle was severe, and the native party in an evil hour called to their aid the ignorant and fanatic part of the mongrel and Indian population. The cry of death to the Portuguese was soon changed to death to the freemasons, then a powerfully organised society embracing the greater part of the male white inhabitants. The victorious native party endeavoured to establish a government of their own.

After this state of things had endured six months, they accepted a new President sent from Rio Janeiro, who, however, again irritated them by imprisoning their favourite leader, Vinagre. The revenge which followed was frightful. A vast host of half- savage coloured people assembled in the retired creeks behind Para, and on a day fixed, after Vinagre's brother had sent a message three times to the President demanding, in vain, the release of their leader, the whole body poured into the city through the gloomy pathways of the forest which encircles it. A cruel battle, lasting nine days, was fought in the streets; an English, French, and Portuguese man-of-war, from the side of the river, assisting the legal authorities. All the latter, however, together with every friend of peace and order, were finally obliged to retire to an island a few miles distant. The city and province were given up to anarchy; the coloured people, elated with victory, proclaimed the slaughter of all whites, except the English, French, and American residents. The mistaken principals who had first aroused all this hatred of races were obliged now to make their escape. In the interior, the supporters of lawful authority including, it must be stated, whole tribes of friendly Indians and numbers of the better disposed negroes and mulattos, concentrated themselves in certain strong positions and defended themselves, until the reconquest of the capital and large towns of the interior in 1836 by a force sent from Rio Janeiro— after ten months of anarchy.

Years of conciliatory government, the lesson learned by the native party and the moderation of the Portuguese, aided by the indolence and passive goodness of the Paraenses of all classes and colours, were only beginning to produce their good effects about the time I am speaking of. Life, however, was now and had been for some time quite safe throughout the country. Some few of the worst characters had been transported or imprisoned, and the remainder, after being pardoned, were converted once more into quiet and peaceable citizens.

I resided at Para nearly a year and a half altogether, returning thither and making a stay of a few months after each of my shorter excursions into the interior, until the 6th of November, 1851, when I started on my long voyage to the Tapajos and the Upper Amazons, which occupied me seven years and a half. I became during this time tolerably familiar with the capital of the Amazons region, and its inhabitants. Compared with other Brazilian seaport towns, I was always told, Para shone to great advantage. It was cleaner, the suburbs were fresher, more rural and much pleasanter on account of their verdure, shade, and magnificent vegetation. The people were simpler, more peaceable and friendly in their manners and dispositions; and assassinations, which give the southern provinces so ill a reputation, were almost unknown. At the same time the Para people were much inferior to Southern Brazilians in energy and industry. Provisions and house rents being cheap and the wants of the people few—for they were content with food and lodging of a quality which would be spurned by paupers in England—they spent the greater part of their time in sensual indulgences and in amusements which the government and wealthier citizens provided for them gratis.

The trade, wholesale and retail, was in the hands of the Portuguese, of whom there were about 2500 in the place. Many handicrafts were exercised by coloured people, mulattos, mamelucos, free negroes, and Indians. The better sort of Brazilians dislike the petty details of shop-keeping, and if they cannot be wholesale merchants, prefer the life of planters in the country, however small may be the estate and the gains. The negroes constituted the class of field-labourers and porters; Indians were universally the watermen, and formed the crews of the numberless canoes of all sizes and shapes which traded between Para and the interior. The educated Brazilians, not many of whom are of pure Caucasian descent—for the immigration of Portuguese, for many years, has been almost exclusively of the male sex—are courteous, lively, and intelligent people. They were gradually weaning themselves of the ignorant, bigoted notions which they inherited from their Portuguese ancestors, especially those entertained with regard to the treatment of women. Formerly, the Portuguese would not allow their wives to go into society, or their daughters to learn reading and writing. In 1848, Brazilian ladies were only just beginning to emerge from this inferior position, and Brazilian fathers were opening their eyes to the advantages of education for their daughters. Reforms of this kind are slow. It is, perhaps, in part owing to the degrading position always held by women, that the relations between the sexes were, and are still, on so unsatisfactory a footing, and private morality at so low an ebb, in Brazil. In Para, I believe that an improvement is now taking place, but formerly promiscuous intercourse seemed to be the general rule among all classes, and intrigues and love-making the serious business of the greater part of the population. That this state of things is a necessity depending on the climate and institutions I do not believe, as I have resided at small towns in the interior, where the habits, and the general standard of morality of the inhabitants, were as pure as they are in similar places in England.

CHAPTER II

PARA

The Swampy Forests of Para—A Portuguese Landed Proprietor— Country House at Nazareth—Life of a Naturalist under the Equator—The drier Virgin Forests—Magoary—Retired Creeks— Aborigines

After having resided about a fortnight at Mr. Miller's rocinha, we heard of another similar country-house to be let, much better situated for our purpose, in the village of Nazareth, a mile and a half from the city and close to the forest. The owner was an old Portuguese gentleman named Danin, who lived at his tile manufactory at the mouth of the Una, a small river lying two miles below Para. We resolved to walk to his place through the forest, a distance of three miles, although the road was said to be scarcely passable at this season of the year, and the Una much more easily accessible by boat. We were glad, however, of this early opportunity of traversing the rich swampy forest which we had admired so much from the deck of the ship; so, about eleven o'clock one sunny morning, after procuring the necessary information about the road, we set off in that direction. This part of the forest afterwards became one of my best hunting- grounds. I will narrate the incidents of the walk, giving my first impressions and some remarks on the wonderful vegetation. The forest is very similar on most of the low lands, and therefore, one description will do for all.

On leaving the town we walked along a straight, suburban road constructed above the level of the surrounding land. It had low swampy ground on each side, built upon, however, and containing several spacious rocinhas which were embowered in magnificent foliage. Leaving the last of these, we arrived at a part where the lofty forest towered up like a wall five or six yards from the edge of the path to the height of, probably, a hundred feet. The tree trunks were only seen partially here and there, nearly the whole frontage from ground to summit being covered with a diversified drapery of creeping plants, all of the most vivid shades of green; scarcely a flower to be seen, except in some places a solitary scarlet passion-flower set in the green mantle like a star. The low ground on the borders between the forest wall and the road was encumbered with a tangled mass of bushy and shrubby vegetation, amongst which prickly mimosas were very numerous, covering the other bushes in the same way as brambles do in England. Other dwarf mimosas trailed along the ground close to the edge of the road, shrinking at the slightest touch of the feet as we passed by. Cassia trees, with their elegant pinnate foliage and conspicuous yellow flowers, formed a great proportion of the lower trees, and arborescent arums grew in groups around the swampy hollows. Over the whole fluttered a larger number of brilliantly-coloured butterflies than we had yet seen; some wholly orange or yellow (Callidryas), others with excessively elongated wings, sailing horizontally through the air, coloured black, and varied with blue, red, and yellow (Heliconii). One magnificent grassy-green species (Colaenis Dido) especially attracted our attention. Near the ground hovered many other smaller species very similar in appearance to those found at home, attracted by the flowers of numerous leguminous and other shrubs. Besides butterflies, there were few other insects except dragonflies, which were in great numbers, similar in shape to English species, but some of them looking conspicuously different on account of their fiery red colours.

After stopping repeatedly to examine and admire, we at length walked onward. The road then ascended slightly, and the soil and vegetation became suddenly altered in character. The shrubs here were grasses, low sedges and other plants, smaller in foliage than those growing in moist grounds. The forest was second growth, low, consisting of trees which had the general aspect of laurels and other evergreens in our gardens at home— the leaves glossy and dark green. Some of them were elegantly veined and hairy (Melastomae), while many, scattered amongst the rest, had smaller foliage (Myrtles), but these were not sufficient to subtract much from the general character of the whole.

The sun, now, for we had loitered long on the road, was exceedingly powerful. The day was most brilliant; the sky without a cloud. In fact, it was one of those glorious days which announce the commencement of the dry season. The radiation of heat from the sandy ground was visible by the quivering motion of the air above it. We saw or heard no mammals or birds; a few cattle belonging to an estate down a shady lane were congregated, panting, under a cluster of wide spreading trees. The very soil was hot to our feet, and we hastened onward to the shade of the forest which we could see not far ahead. At length, on entering it, what a relief! We found ourselves in a moderately broad pathway or alley, where the branches of the trees crossed overhead and produced a delightful shade. The woods were at first of recent growth, dense, and utterly impenetrable; the ground, instead of being clothed with grass and shrubs as in the woods of Europe, was everywhere carpeted with Lycopodiums (fern-shaped mosses). Gradually the scene became changed. We descended slightly from an elevated, dry, and sandy area to a low and swampy one; a cool air breathed on our faces, and a mouldy smell of rotting vegetation greeted us. The trees were now taller, the underwood less dense, and we could obtain glimpses into the wilderness on all sides. The leafy crowns of the trees, scarcely two of which could be seen together of the same kind, were now far away above us, in another world as it were. We could only see at times, where there was a break above, the tracery of the foliage against the clear blue sky. Sometimes the leaves were palmate, or of the shape of large outstretched hands; at others, finely cut or feathery, like the leaves of Mimosae. Below, the tree trunks were everywhere linked together by sipos; the woody, flexible stems of climbing and creeping trees, whose foliage is far away above, mingled with that of the taller independent trees. Some were twisted in strands like cables, others had thick stems contorted in every variety of shape, entwining snake-like round the tree trunks, or forming gigantic loops and coils among the larger branches; others, again, were of zigzag shape, or indented like the steps of a staircase, sweeping from the ground to a giddy height.

It interested me much afterwards to find that these climbing trees do not form any particular family. There is no distinct group of plants whose special habit is to climb, but species of many and the most diverse families, the bulk of whose members are not climbers, seem to have been driven by circumstances to adopt this habit. There is even a climbing genus of palms (Desmoncus), the species of which are called, in the Tupi language, Jacitara. These have slender, thickly-spined, and flexuous stems, which twine about the taller trees from one to the other, and grow to an incredible length. The leaves, which have the ordinary pinnate shape characteristic of the family, are emitted from the stems at long intervals, instead of being collected into a dense crown, and have at their tips a number of long recurved spines. These structures are excellent contrivances to enable the trees to secure themselves by in climbing, but they are a great nuisance to the traveller, for they sometimes hang over the pathway and catch the hat or clothes, dragging off the one or tearing the other as he passes. The number and variety of climbing trees in the Amazons forests are interesting, taken in connection with the fact of the very general tendency of the animals, also, to become climbers.

All the Amazonian, and in fact all South American, monkeys are climbers. There is no group answering to the baboons of the Old World, which live on the ground. The Gallinaceous birds of the country, the representatives of the fowls and pheasants of Asia and Africa, are all adapted by the position of the toes to perch on trees, and it is only on trees, at a great height, that they are to be seen. A genus of Plantigrade Carnivora, allied to the bears (Cercoleptes), found only in the Amazonian forests, is entirely arboreal, and has a long flexible tail like that of certain monkeys. Many other similar instances could be enumerated, but I will mention only the Geodephaga, or carnivorous ground beetles, a great proportion of whose genera and species in these forest regions are, by the structure of their feet, fitted to live exclusively on the branches and leaves of trees.

Many of the woody lianas suspended from trees are not climbers, but the air-roots of epiphytous plants (Aroideae), which sit on the stronger boughs of the trees above and hang down straight as plumb-lines. Some are suspended singly, others in clusters; some reach halfway to the ground and others touch it, striking their rootlets into the earth. The underwood in this part of the forest was composed partly of younger trees of the same species as their taller neighbours, and partly of palms of many species, some of them twenty to thirty feet in height, others small and delicate, with stems no thicker than a finger. These latter (different kinds of Bactris) bore small bunches of fruit, red or black, often containing a sweet, grape-like juice.

Further on, the ground became more swampy and we had some difficulty in picking our way. The wild banana (Urania Amazonica) here began to appear, and, as it grew in masses, imparted a new aspect to the scene. The leaves of this beautiful plant are like broad-sword blades, eight feet in length and a foot broad; they rise straight upwards, alternately, from the top of a stem five or six feet high. Numerous kinds of plants with leaves similar in shape to these but smaller clothed the ground. Amongst them were species of Marantaceae, some of which had broad glossy leaves, with long leaf-stalks radiating from joints in a reed-like stem. The trunks of the trees were clothed with climbing ferns, and Pothos plants with large, fleshy, heart-shaped leaves. Bamboos and other tall grass and reed-like plants arched over the pathway. The appearance of this part of the forest was strange in the extreme; description can convey no adequate idea of it. The reader who has visited Kew may form some notion by conceiving a vegetation like that in the great palm-house, spread over a large tract of swampy ground, but he must fancy it mingled with large exogenous trees similar to our oaks and elms covered with creepers and parasites, and figure to himself the ground encumbered with fallen and rotting trunks, branches, and leaves; the whole illuminated by a glowing vertical sun, and reeking with moisture.

At length we emerged from the forest, on the banks of the Una, near its mouth. It was here about one hundred yards wide. The residence of Senor Danin stood on the opposite shore; a large building, whitewashed and red-tiled as usual, raised on wooden piles above the humid ground. The second story was the part occupied by the family, and along it was an open verandah, where people, both male and female, were at work. Below were several negroes employed carrying clay on their heads. We called out for a boat, and one of them crossed over to fetch us. Senor Danin received us with the usual formal politeness of the Portuguese, he spoke English very well, and after we had arranged our business, we remained conversing with him on various subjects connected with the country. Like all employers in this province, he was full of one topic—the scarcity of hands. It appeared that he had made great exertions to introduce white labour, but had failed, after having brought numbers of men from Portugal and other countries under engagement to work for him. They all left him one by one soon after their arrival. The abundance of unoccupied land, the liberty that exists, a state of things produced by the half-wild canoe-life of the people, and the case with which a mere subsistence can be obtained with moderate work, tempt even the best-disposed to quit regular labour as soon as they can. He complained also of the dearness of slaves, owing to the prohibition of the African traffic, telling us that formerly a slave could be bought for 120 dollars, whereas they are now difficult to procure at 400 dollars.

Mr. Danin told us that he had travelled in England and the United States, and that he had now two sons completing their education in those countries. I afterwards met with many enterprising persons of Mr. Danin's order, both Brazilians and Portuguese; their great ambition is to make a voyage to Europe or North America, and to send their sons to be educated there. The land on which his establishment is built, he told us, was an artificial embankment on the swamp; the end of the house was built on a projecting point overlooking the river, so that a good view was obtained, from the sitting-rooms, of the city and the shipping. We learned there was formerly a large and flourishing cattle estate on this spot, with an open grassy space like a park. On Sundays, gay parties of forty or fifty persons used to come by land and water, in carriages and gay galliotas, to spend the day with the hospitable owner. Since the political disorders which I have already mentioned, decay had come upon this as on most other large establishments in the country. The cultivated grounds, and the roads leading to them, were now entirely overgrown with dense forest. When we were ready to depart, Senor Danin lent a canoe and two negroes to take us to the city, where we arrived in the evening after a day rich in new experiences.

Shortly afterwards, we took possession of our new residence. The house was a square building, consisting of four equal-sized rooms; the tiled roof projected all round, so as to form a broad verandah, cool and pleasant to sit and work in. The cultivated ground, which appeared as if newly cleared from the forest, was planted with fruit trees and small plots of coffee and mandioca. The entrance to the grounds was by an iron-grille gateway from a grassy square, around which were built the few houses and palm- thatched huts which then constituted the village. The most important building was the chapel of our Lady of Nazareth, which stood opposite our place. The saint here enshrined was a great favourite with all orthodox Paraenses, who attributed to her the performance of many miracles. The image was to be seen on the altar, a handsome doll about four feet high, wearing a silver crown and a garment of blue silk, studded with golden stars. In and about the chapel were the offerings that had been made to her, proofs of the miracles which she had performed. There were models of legs, arms, breasts, and so forth, which she had cured. But most curious of all was a ship's boat, deposited here by the crew of a Portuguese vessel which had foundered, a year or two before our arrival, in a squall off Cayenne; part of them having been saved in the boat, after invoking the protection of the saint here enshrined. The annual festival in honour of our Lady of Nazareth is the greatest of the Para holidays; many persons come to it from the neighbouring city of Maranham, 300 miles distant. Once the President ordered the mail steamer to be delayed two days at Para for the convenience of these visitors. The popularity of the festival is partly owing to the beautiful weather that prevails when it takes place, namely, in the middle of the fine season, on the ten days preceding the full moon in October or November. Para is then seen at its best. The weather is not too dry, for three weeks never follow in succession without a shower; so that all the glory of verdure and flowers can be enjoyed with clear skies. The moonlit nights are then especially beautiful, the atmosphere is transparently clear, and the light sea-breeze produces an agreeable coolness.

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